


Satellites

by Thistlerose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, M/M, MWPP Era, Marauders' Era, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-23
Updated: 2012-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-30 00:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thistlerose/pseuds/Thistlerose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus and Sirius spend five Christmases orbiting each other.  Written in 2004.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Satellites

**Christmas 1971**

On Christmas Eve, when he was eleven years old, Remus Lupin went outside to see the stars. He did not like being outside at night, and almost never went out when the moon was high, even when – like tonight – there was still a week before it was full.

He had become braver this past year, by necessity. If his new friends saw any danger in the night, it only added to the thrill of sneaking out of the castle after curfew. To avoid their suspicion, Remus had had to pretend that he was fearless, too.

Tonight Remus only stood on the front steps of his parents’ house in Melrose, the door ajar behind him, should anything besides the wind stir in the darkened yard. It had not snowed today, much to his disappointment, though his mum assured him that there was still tomorrow. In the moonlight, the grass gleamed with frost. Remus imagined a legion of tiny soldiers carrying glass swords. He did not know if they were guarding him from dangers that lay beyond the front steps, or guarding the peaceful world from the darkness inside him.

Moonlight flooded the sky, making it difficult to see the stars, but by squinting, Remus was able to locate the very brightest. There was red Aldebaran, the eye of Taurus, and a little to the left of that, Remus found Orion’s belt. His gaze followed the line of stars to the evergreens across the street, and there, peeking at him from between the pointed tops of those, was Sirius.

It made sense to Remus that his friend should be named for the brightest star in the sky, and that his name should mean “scorching one.” Sirius was luminous (Remus had just learned that word) and everything he touched seemed to light up, too. Sometimes the things he touched burst into flames, and wounded. But most of the time they glowed, just as Remus seemed to whenever Sirius ignored James and Peter, and acted as though Remus were the only other person in the universe.

His dad came outside and stood behind him. “I think it will snow tomorrow,” he said after a moment. “You can taste it in the air. I’d better find the sleds.”

Remus nodded absently. “Look,” he said, pointing. “You can see Sirius. Isn’t that a funny name for a person? It’s like naming a person England or something. Isn’t it silly?” He did not find it the slightest bit silly; he only wanted to hear someone else say his friend’s name.

“It’s a fine name,” said Remus’ dad. “But I like yours better. Your grandpa Argyll was named for a region of Scotland, you know.”

No luck, then.

Remus tried again. “Sirius says Blacks are named for stars and constellations.” He grinned. “What if they called him Betelgeuse? Or Nunki, or something?”

Nicholas Lupin put his hands on his son’s thin shoulders, and tilted his head back. “Love,” he said, “since you’ve come home, all you’ve talked about is Sirius. Haven’t your other friends got names, too?”

Remus blinked up into his dad’s face, but all he saw were stars.

 **Christmas 1974**

“The moon hasn’t got any light of its own,” Sirius said in a lecturing tone. “It only reflects the light from the stars.”

“So?” said Remus.

“So,” said Sirius, “it’s just a stupid rock. You don’t have to be afraid of it.”

“I’m not afraid of it,” said Remus.

“Then, why won’t you come outside with us? The full moon’s _tomorrow_ night. The snow’s perfect for snowballs. Come on.”

Remus huddled in his sweater and looked away from his friend. “I just don’t want to, all right?” It was pointless explaining to Sirius that fear was not always rational.

The bed bounced as Sirius jumped off it. “This is so stupid,” he said, and Remus winced at the sharpness of his tone. “Honestly. We could all be home right now, or in London or something, but instead we’re spending the hols here at Hogwarts so we can be around for the full moon. The full moon’s not until _tomorrow_ night, and you don’t want to do anything. You’re really bloody boring, you know that?” And with a huff, he stomped off.

Remus hugged his knees to his chest, and tried not to cry. He was fourteen, much too old for tears, especially over Sirius. He should be used to the other boy’s casual cruelties by now. But he wasn’t. In fact, it seemed to Remus that they wounded more deeply now that Sirius had begun to share with Remus the secrets he would not, or could not, share with James and Peter. It was as though in order to have the very best of Sirius, Remus had to take the very worst as well.

He did not cry. He simply held himself until the bitterness in his chest had ebbed somewhat. Then he unfolded his limbs, and went to find quill and parchment, so he could write a thank you note to Geoffrey Abbott, for the books he had sent Remus for Christmas. A few minutes later he returned to the bed, smoothed the parchment against a book, and dipped his quill into the inkstand on his beside table. He did not write.

 _The moon hasn’t got any light of its own. It only reflects the light from the stars._

Suddenly it seemed to Remus that Sirius, whether he knew it or not, had been talking about more than a big rock in space, and some very distant balls of fire. Remus looked down at his brown woolen sweater, his faded jeans, and his socks, which were frayed at the toes and heels. He felt very ordinary, not the least bit exciting.

Knowing he would regret it, he pushed himself off the bed, and went to the window. Far below, on the moonlight-flooded snow, three figures were lobbing snowballs at one another. The wind carried their shrieks and their laughter up to Remus, and he wished with all his heart that he could go down to them. But they were probably so wrapped up in their game that they had forgotten all about him. Doubtless, rules had already been made, rules that would have to be altered to include him.

The moonlight made the snow look like an ocean of silver, and though Remus knew it could not hurt him he heeded what he took to be a warning, and stayed where he was. If Sirius really had wanted him to join then, he would have tried harder to convince him, Remus decided. When his friends returned, cold, red-faced, and exhilarated, Remus was in bed, feigning sleep.

 **Christmas 1975**

Two days after the full moon, just before the start of winter holidays, Remus realized he fancied Sirius. It happened in the worst way possible. Tired, achy, and irritable, Remus had gone to the prefects’ bathroom for a long soak. He’d got there to find the bathroom full of colored, scented steam, and two people fucking against the pool’s tiled wall. The bubbly water hid their lower halves, but from the way they were moving, and from the sounds they were making it was obvious what they were doing. One of them was Sirius. The other, Remus supposed dimly, was Sirius’ current girlfriend, Sylviana Naismith. They had not heard the door open, and they clearly did not see him standing there, his towel clutched in his hands.

Sylviana’s head was thrown back. Her long brown hair trailed in the water, and her perfect breasts glistened. Sirius’ head was lowered. He was kissing her throat. His thick black hair clung to his face and neck, and all Remus wanted to do was comb it out of his way, and then die. Sirius moved with a rhythm that Remus felt as deeply as the marrow in his bones. His white skin, his dripping eyelashes, his strong fingers on the girl’s back, and his choked cries of pleasure were part of a melody that battered Remus, whirled him roughly around, and pushed him back through the door and into the cold, grey, empty corridor.

When he found Geoff Abbott, he grabbed the other boy by the sleeve, half-dragged him to the nearest closet, and shoved him inside. There, in the musty darkness, they fumbled with robes, buttons, and belt-buckles. Remus had never blown anyone before, but somehow his knees found their way to the floor, and his mouth found its way to Geoff’s cock. He gagged at first, but Geoff moaned in pleasure, and if Geoff’s moans were not quite as shattering as Sirius’, they were better than nothing.

Afterward, Geoff said shyly, “Um, I reckon this means you do fancy me. Fancy that.” He laughed shakily, and kissed Remus’ cheek. “That was bloody brilliant. Merlin, you’re not crying, are you?”

“No,” said Remus, but he was, and he felt like a turd for it. Geoff was a fine bloke, but Remus had not been thinking about Geoff while he’d been on his knees. In the darkness, Remus could pretend that blond hair was black, and brown eyes blue. Remus could keep pretending, even as Geoff kissed his way down his body, and licked him inexpertly back to hardness.

In the dorm later, while James and Peter were busily packing their trunks, Sirius lobbed Remus’ towel at him, and grinned. “Left that in the doorway after you walked in on us, oh subtle one.”

“I should never have given you the password,” was all Remus could spit. He couldn’t look at Sirius’ face, so he looked at his left shoulder.

“Aww,” Sirius said, reaching over to pat him on the head. “Poor innocent widdle Wupin. Got an eyeful, did he? Consider that your first present of the year: an invaluable lesson.”

Remus knocked Sirius’ hand away, jumped off the bed, and threw the towel back at the other boy. “Shut up!” he shouted.

Peter and James looked up.

“And a bah humbug to you, too,” said Sirius sweetly.

 **Christmas 1976**

A year later, everything was different. Remus was in France for the holiday, with his family, the moon was two weeks from full, and he had a boyfriend waiting for him in Britain, but his boyfriend was not Geoffrey Abbott.

Remus walked the lamp-lit streets of Avignon, and peered into shop windows. There was so much that he thought Sirius would like, but Remus did not have much money. He kept thinking about Sirius’ hands on his body – those broad, warm hands – so he ended up buying Sirius a rather expensive pair of gloves. They were imported from Italy, and made of the softest black leather that Remus had ever felt. Sirius’ parents, and most of his ex-girlfriends might have been wealthy, but Remus doubted that anyone had ever given Sirius anything so fine.

When he got back to his aunt and uncle’s house, he hurried to his room, took the gloves reverently from their plastic bag, and held them against his cheeks. He imagined Sirius’ hands inside them. Then he imagined Sirius with his arms around him, his warm breath fanning Remus’ neck.

The gloves fell to the blanket as Remus lay back against his pillows, unbuttoned his trousers, and, still pretending Sirius was with him, stroked himself while, outside the bedroom door, his relatives bustled about obliviously. He had to shove one hand into his mouth, to muffle his cry when he came.

After he’d caught his breath again, after his heartbeat had slowed to a normal thump, he reached out and fingered aside a fold of the heavy curtains that covered the window. From where he lay, he was able to see a patch of sky, and against the darkness, a single star.

“Did you see that?” he asked the star sleepily. He felt deliciously dirty, and luminous. “Did you like that?”

The star only glittered at him. Far away in England, the flesh and blood Sirius was lying on a pile of frozen hay, in a freezing stable. He did not dare sleep. He had to tend his fire. It was not a magical one; a strong gust of wind might blow it out, and if he did not relight it quickly, he would freeze to death. Not yet seventeen, he was not allowed to use magic outside school, and he knew that if he did, the Ministry would find him, and probably send him back to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. To save face with the Ministry, his parents would pretend they had not banished him from their property, blasted his name from the family tree, and sent the Crups after him. Then, once they had him back, once the Ministry agents had gone, they would torture him until he revealed his lover’s name – if Regulus had not told them already. If he had, they might simply kill him.

Sirius did not know where he was, only that he was somewhere north of Birmingham, where he had left Peter, and south of Windermere, where he would find James. His hands and feet were bruised and scraped from running. His jacket and jeans were torn, and he had lost the heels of his boots.

He lay in the hay, blew hot breaths over his numb fingertips, and wanted Remus. And wanted him and wanted him, and wept because Remus was in France with his family, and happy there, and warm, and safe, and because Sirius wished that Remus were freezing beside him.

Through the slats in the stable roof, Sirius saw a single star, glittering like a knifepoint against the deep indigo sky.

 **Christmas 1977**

The next year, the moon was full on Christmas night. Remus had intended to spend the first few days of the holiday in Spain with Sirius and the Potters, and return to Scotland for Christmas. But a few weeks before the start of the holiday, Remus’ father had fallen ill, and so Remus had gone home directly after classes had ended.

He had not really expected Sirius to show up on Christmas, though the other boy had sworn that he would. It wasn’t that Sirius was given to breaking promises, just that he was given to following his whims, and who knew what whims might strike him in Spain? But Sirius kept his word, arriving in the late afternoon, in time to help Remus’ mum prepare supper.

Remus sat at the kitchen table, watching them, and nibbling on the green olives that Sirius had brought him from Córdoba. “The best bloody olives you’ll ever taste,” Sirius had pronounced, and Remus supposed they were, but he supposed that that was because they tasted like Sirius’ lips: full, smooth, and salty. He also supposed that he loved Sirius, that he loved every person in this house tonight, and that they loved him, too.

He pushed back his chair, climbed to his feet, and went to the front door.

“Remus?” his father called weakly from the living room. “Love, there’s time.”

“I know,” Remus said. He opened the door, and walked forward. He stopped on the bottom step, and looked out at garden. This year the tiny soldiers were shrouded in a white cloak, but Remus knew that they were there, just as he knew that in less than two hours, the moon would rise behind the clouds. No one in this part of Scotland would see it. Some people, he was sure, would not even realize there was a full moon tonight, and would venture out of doors, just as he had at the age of five.

“Hello,” said Sirius, coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around him. “You idiot, where’s your coat?”

“I’m not cold,” said Remus. And he was not. The blood rushing through him was hot, almost boiling it seemed. He wanted to claw and tear, to run through the night, throw his head back, and howl. But he let Sirius hold him.

“What if,” Sirius murmured, nuzzling his neck, “I Transfigured you into a real wolf, right after you transformed? What then?”

Remus sighed. "You know it wouldn't work. You're not powerful enough, and even if you were, the werewolf part of me would fight it and I'd probably end up exploding. Or something. If I didn’t bite you first.”

Sirius hmm'd thoughtfully, and dropped his chin onto Remus' shoulder. "All right, then, we can't have that. But what if I Transfigured you before you transformed. Into, say, a puppy? Or something equally harmless? Might the wolf not become confused and back down?"

"There's no such thing as a harmless puppy, first of all," said Remus. "And second of all, that wouldn't work, either. The wolf doesn't become confused. It knows when it's ready to come out, it knows when it's hungry, and it knows when it's time to go away, and I don't think anything in the world can change it. But thank you. For everything, Sirius. For the olives, the tea, for helping my mum, for the healing herbs you brought my dad – everything.”

"You're welcome."

They stood together in silence for a few moments. The sky became darker, and a few flakes of snow fluttered to earth.

Without warning, a shudder seized Remus like a pair of huge talons, and shook him. Sirius held him through it. When it had passed, and Remus leaned weakly against Sirius, the other boy said, "Would it help if I kissed you? On your cheek, just like that?"

"It would, I think," said Remus, and Sirius did.

"Would it help if I kissed you again, and just held you until the exact second your mum calls us back in? And then after supper, until the exact moment you’ve got to leave?”

"It would," Remus repeated softly. "It always does."

12/25/04


End file.
